The House (Armstrong House Series Book 1)

by A. O'Connor

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names,

  characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the

  author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons,

  living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Published 2013

  by Poolbeg Press Ltd

  123 Grange Hill, Baldoyle

  Dublin 13, Ireland

  E-mail: poolbeg@poolbeg.com

  www.poolbeg.com

  © A. O’Connor 2012

  Copyright for typesetting, layout, design, ebook

  © Poolbeg Press Ltd

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  1

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-1-84223-550-8

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Typeset by Patricia Hope

  Printed by CPI, Mackays, UK

  www.poolbeg.com

  About the author

  A. O’Connor is the author of six previous novels – This Model Life, Exclusive, Property, Ambition, Full Circle and Talk Show – and is a graduate of NUI Maynooth and Trinity College Dublin.

  Acknowledgements

  As ever, my appreciation to everyone at Poolbeg – Paula Campbell, Kieran Devlin, David Prendergast, Sarah Ormston and Ailbhe Hennegan. Thank you Gaye Shortland for your precision editing skills. And continued gratitude to the book buyers, reviewers and you – the readers.

  For Mary Kate Browne

  Prologue

  2007

  The divorce should have been a straightforward affair. Both parties wanted out of the marriage. As ever it was in the detail that the problems arose, and so they had gathered with their lawyers to mediate in an attempt to stave off further court proceedings. Nico and Susan Collins sat across a board table from each other in an office at Susan’s solicitor’s premises, beside their respective legal representatives. Nico’s solicitor, Geoffrey Conway, a man in his sixties, had represented his family for thirty years. But as Nico observed Susan’s dapper, young and overly confident solicitor, he hoped Geoffrey’s experience would outwit his opponent’s flair and style.

  “To begin with, I think it’s good to stress the positive,” began Geoffrey. “Nico and Susan are in agreement that they should divorce. They are in agreement that they share custody of their daughter Alex.”

  “Which leaves just the financial arrangements,” said Susan.

  “Indeed,” said Geoffrey. “There is the family home in Dublin which has a considerable mortgage and two houses in the country, Armstrong House and Hunter’s Farm, which have been in Nico’s family for many a generation, and which he inherited from his late mother Jacqueline Armstrong Collins.” Geoffrey had a whimsical look as he spoke her name, with fond memories of his old friend, still in his mind a figure of glamour and excitement from their youth at university back in the sixties.

  “What my client is proposing,” said Susan’s solicitor, Peter, sitting forward, “is that Armstrong House is sold which would put both Mr and Mrs Collins in a strong financial position to allow them to pay off the mortgage in Dublin and buy Nico a new home in Dublin as well.”

  “I’ve said it before,” said Nico defiantly. “I’m not selling the house.”

  Susan became irritated. “So, in that case we will have to sell the family home in Dublin, and Alex and I will have to live in some shoebox somewhere, while you will be in that rented flat for the rest of your life. That will be lovely for Alex, shuttled between a shoebox and a rented flat!”

  “We both work in good professions – you’re a journalist and I’m an architect,” said Nico. “We can get by.”

  “I don’t want to ‘get by’,” said Susan. “We can set ourselves and our daughter up if we sell Armstrong House. My friend Janet Dolan from Dolan Auctioneers viewed the house last week and she said she would be confident of getting well over a million for it.”

  “Janet Dolan!” said Nico aghast. “I can’t believe you sent her down to survey my house.”

  “Why not? She’s the best in the business.”

  “The reality is, Nico, you also have considerable debts left over from your parents that you are responsible for,” Peter pointed out.

  “Jacqueline did like the high life,” said Susan, smirking over at Nico.

  “Indeed she did,” said Geoffrey, smiling at the memory of her.

  Nico gave Geoffrey a warning look and the solicitor coughed.

  “Nico is adamant he will not sell the house. It’s been in the family for one hundred and seventy years. And Jacqueline loved the place.”

  “Well, that was Jacqueline all over,” said Susan. “She was so black or white. Loved something or hated it. She loved French food, hated Italian. Loved yachting, hated dancing. Loved Nico – hated me!”

  Nico looked at her challengingly. “Will we talk about your family’s qualities, while we’re at it?”

  Susan smiled ruefully. “No – I’d rather not!”

  Nico nodded and grinned. “Wise of you.”

  Geoffrey sat back. “Look, Nico is not disputing the value of Armstrong House or indeed the benefit it would be to you all if it was sold. He merely says he does not wish to sell.”

  “We can go to court and force a sale,” Peter pointed out.

  Susan sighed loudly and looked sympathetically at Nico. “Which we would rather not do . . . I just want you to see this is the right thing to do, Nico, for Alex, for all of us.”

  As Geoffrey observed the couple look at each other with obvious affection he said, “Have we exhausted all possibility of the marriage being salvaged?”

  “Yes,” said Susan definitely. “Our marriage was no longer working – there were three of us in this marriage.”

  “Three?” said Geoffrey, horrified at the sudden revelation.

  “That’s right – me, Nico and an architect’s drawing board!” She looked at Nico accusingly, and suddenly they both erupted in laughter.

  Geoffrey shook his head in exasperation. “Then we must all agree to differ and let the courts decide.”

  Susan sat forward and looked at Nico. “I know you love Armstrong House, Nico, but it nearly broke your mother and father.”

  “Exactly! For me to just to sell it as soon as it comes to me would be a betrayal of my parents and my family. And it would be a betrayal for Alex in the future. It’s her legacy as well . . . in fact, why don’t we ask Alex to decide the fate of the house?”

  “Alex is a ten-year-old child – never a good idea to ask them anything more complicated than what topping they want on their pizza,” Geoffrey advised.

  “I’m afraid I agree with your lawyer,” said Susan quickly.

  “That’s because you know Alex doesn’t want to sell the house – she loves it as much as I do,” said Nico.

  “We have to be realistic,” said Susan. “What does Alex understand about finances or securing our future – or indeed what’s best for her own future?”

  Nico sat back, lost in thought.

  “I always wanted Alex to have the house one day,” he said then. “I wanted it to pass to her
like it passed down to me – through the generations.”

  Book 1

  1840–1848

  1

  The snow was still coming down in a flurry and was gathering on the Georgian windows of the little shops around Grafton Street in Dublin. There had been a light dusting of snow that morning, and as Christmas Eve wore on it had continued to gather on the ground. Anna stood at the counter of a milliner’s with her two younger sisters, Florence and Sophia, and her cousin Georgina who was staying with them for the holiday. The shops were full of Christmas shoppers and the young women were making their final purchases.

  “It’s nearly four, Anna! We need to get home to get ready for the party this evening,” Sophia pointed out.

  “This is the last purchase of the day, I promise,” said Anna who exchanged an amused look with Georgina at her sister’s irritation. The two older girls had traipsed Florence and Sophia through nearly every shop in Grafton Street.

  The shopkeeper tied the ribbon into an elaborate bow on top of the hatbox and handed it over to Anna.

  “Now, Miss, will there be anything else?” he asked with a big smile.

  “No, I think we’ve bought enough,” said Anna with a grin. All four girls were laden down with boxes and presents.

  “Good day to you then, and a happy Christmas!” said the man.

  “Merry Christmas!” sang Anna and Georgina together as they followed the younger girls out on to the street.

  “Now, we really have to get back to the carriage in Stephen’s Green. Papa will be furious if we are late for tonight’s party,” insisted Sophia.

  “You go ahead – we’ll follow you,” promised Anna.

  Sophia gave them a warning look not to delay as she and Florence walked ahead. Georgina and Anna gave each other mischievous glances and giggled as they began to follow.

  “Who is the hat for?” asked Georgina.

  “Oh, just a friend.”

  The two girls had been very close since childhood, even though Georgina lived in the country. Anna often felt she was much closer to Georgina than she ever was to her own sisters, or her brother for that matter. It was like they were born with an ability to always know what the other was thinking. They knew all each other’s secrets, and kept nothing from each other. Anna at twenty-one was one year younger than Georgina.

  “What time is the party due to start?” asked Georgina, as they passed carol singers under street lamps singing ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen’.

  “Papa said the guests will start to arrive at seven.”

  “At what time will Lord Armstrong arrive?” Georgina looked at her knowingly.

  “Who’s to say he will even come?” asked Anna, but her face was smug.

  “You know very well he will.”

  “The snow might prevent him. He has to make a very long journey from the west,” said Anna.

  “He will make it,” assured Georgina. “After all, he’s coming on very important business, isn’t he?”

  Anna reached out and grabbed her cousin’s gloved hand. “Georgina, do you think he’ll ask Papa tonight?”

  “Of course he will. He’s said to you he will, hasn’t he? And he’s already discussed it with your father.”

  Anna thought of how her father had taken her into the drawing room the previous week and asked her how she felt about marrying Edward Armstrong. She had nodded enthusiastically, delighted at the prospect. She had fallen in love with Edward on first seeing him three years previously when he had attended their party on Christmas Eve. He had a handsome face, dark-brown hair, sallow skin and hazel eyes, but more importantly he was intelligent, warm and kind. And it was clear from that first meeting that he too had been attracted to her. Since then, he had gone out of his way to visit and become a close friend of the family. Although he lived on his family estate in County Mayo, which he had inherited when his parents passed away, he seemed to have taken every opportunity to stay in Dublin and spend time with Anna’s family. Edward was twenty-six years old, and being an only child he seemed to love the hustle and bustle of the large Stratton family.

  “Where will you live once you’re married?” asked Georgina. “With his money, you’ll have plenty of options. A fabulous townhouse? I saw a house for sale on Leeson Street the other day, but that would be a come-down for you from your family home in Merrion Square.”

  “Edward has made it very clear he wants to live on his country estate. He has no interest in living permanently in Dublin.”

  Georgina was surprised. “And how do you feel about that? Leaving your family and all your friends, everyone in Dublin?”

  “I don’t care where I live as long as I’m with Edward. He doesn’t want to be an absentee landlord, he’s very progressive. He wants to look after his land and the tenants. He wants to build model villages on the estate and improve farming practices.”

  “But won’t you miss the dances and parties in Dublin?”

  “We can have dozens of parties and dances on the estate.”

  “At least you’ll be mistress of your own house. Nobody lording it over you.”

  Both of them knew she was making reference to her sister-in-law Joanna. Since Georgina’s father had died, the family estate where Georgina lived in Westmeath, Tullydere, had been inherited by Georgina’s brother Richard and his wife Joanna who Georgina despised.

  “Don’t worry,” consoled Anna. “It won’t be long until you are married as well, and you can leave Tullydere behind and have your own home as well.”

  Georgina’s mood changed and she smiled as she thought of her own fiancé.

  “Promise me that you’ll visit me all the time when I marry Edward,” said Anna.

  “Of course I will. Your new life sounds like a fairytale.”

  “I believe in fairytales, Georgina. I always have.”

  As they passed a crowd of children looking in the window of a toy shop, Anna said, “It won’t be long till Edward and I are buying toys for our children, Georgina. He’s said he wants a large family. He has six children in mind.”

  “Your whole life is mapped out for you, and it’s starting tonight.”

  “Anna!” shouted Sophia from the top of Grafton Street. “We are waiting for you! We need time to prepare ourselves for tonight. Not all of us have fiancés waiting for us who own half a county!”

  As Anna waved in response, the snow began to fall heavily, and she feared that Edward wouldn’t make it for the night.

  The carriage made its way into Merrion Square and pulled up outside the Strattons’ house, which was one of the rows of four-storey townhouses neatly laid out around the square’s park. As the young women arrived, the house was already a hive of activity. Maids were scurrying around and delicious smells were escaping from the kitchen. On the ground floor, to the front of the house, were a drawing room and a dining room, and on the first floor was a larger drawing room that stretched from the front of the house through a dividing wall and double doors to the back.

  The girls followed Anna up to the first floor and into the drawing room where her father and her brother Cecil were admiring the giant Christmas tree. The tree had been delivered from Georgina’s family estate Tullydere, and the baubles bought from Germany.

  “Papa, Anna delayed us terribly,” complained Sophia.

  “I shouldn’t worry,” he said as he put an arm around Anna. “I don’t think your sister is going to be around here for too much longer to cause you annoyance.” He smiled down knowingly at his lovely daughter, with her gleaming chestnut hair and sparkling green eyes.

  Four hours later and the drawing room was full of guests dressed in their finery, enjoying John Stratton’s traditional Christmas hospitality. A blazing fire crackled in the fireplace and candles lit up the room. The men drank beer and port, while the women drank wine and sherry. Waiters were continually bringing in platters of canapés, followed by an array of pastries and cakes.

  Cecil was at the piano playing ‘Deck the Halls’, while a group of admirers
sang around him.

  Anna, however, couldn’t relax and enjoy herself, as Edward had not arrived. She looked out at the snow and pictured Edward marooned at an inn somewhere in the country. Her stomach felt sick at the thought of her pending engagement being delayed and her Christmas ruined. Every time the front door bell chimed, she raced to the top of the stairs to see who it was that had arrived, only to be disappointed by seeing it was some more jolly revellers.

  As the clock struck eleven and she was giving up hope, the bell chimed again. She raced to the top of the landing and peered down. The door opened and in walked Edward, dressed in a suit and cloak, and covered in snow. A butler helped him remove his cloak and dusted off the snow, and then Edward instead of being shown up to the party was shown into the small drawing room downstairs and the doors closed. The butler then made his way upstairs and through the guests, and whispered to her father who nodded and went downstairs.